


Deep Edging

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Compulsory Figures, Crack, Deliberate Badfic, Ice Play, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Chris shows the ice he skates on some appreciation.





	Deep Edging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twosocksinalabcoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosocksinalabcoat/gifts).



There were only three people who might have known why Chris came to the ice rink so early in the morning.

The first was his coach, who had caught him at it some years ago. It was an embarrassing incident, but Josef was open-minded, so they never spoken of it again, and Josef made sure to never come to the rink quite so early.

The second was Yuuri, who also had something of this odd habit. They'd crossed paths a couple of times at odd hours, though Yuuri had never looked at him during them. Maybe one day.

The third was Victor, who had joined him here on more than one early morning. Frankly, he'd been a bit weird about it even for Chris, but Chris accepted that Victor was kind of weird sometimes.

Right now, however, he was alone. Perfect. Chris slowly slid off his skate guards, shivering with anticipation and from the bracing chill of the rink. He stepped onto the ice and did a little swizzle before picking up his foot for that first long, slow stroke that sent him gliding down the length of the ice.

Regular people, falling all over the place at public sessions and loudly complaining about how scared they were, saw the ice only for what it was on the very surface. Cold, hard, slippery. Ice didn't like to be held on to. Ice liked to be seduced; but oh, if one could seduce it, the ways one could defy physics with its help! The sounds, god, the sounds it made when Chris dug his edges in, loud in the silent rink, but really like whispers. _Crunch_ , and yes, it liked that, didn't it, the way he put just the right pressure on his blade as he slid over its surface.

He did some basic stroking, warming them both up, leaving light, thin trails across the ice. But this was just teasing - it wasn't enough for either of them. They needed more.

Chris started with something that wasn't too energetic, something a little structured - old-fashioned figures, from basic circles to figure-eights to loop-de-loops. He did a series of three-turns, and the marks looked good to him, though he wasn't about to get down on his knees to check the lines, interrupting the flow. The ice didn't mind a little bit of organic sloppiness. It wanted humans, not skating robots; it wanted passion, wanted lines traced into it with feeling even if it sacrificed precision. He was good at feeling, and he was _very_ good at passion, and there was a reason the ice was always good to him, why even if he couldn't always take gold, at least he was usually in silver behind Victor.

Yuuri had even better figures than him. Chris had watched him trace them, clean edges on every turn, and wondered what was hiding behind that shy, distant exterior. Maybe Victor had seen it as well, or maybe he'd gotten lucky. Chris seemed to be the only one who wasn't surprised by how well he'd taken to his _Eros_ program, but that thing was practically a love letter to the ice. It suited him perfectly.

He sped up and did some easy moves across the ice, then some harder ones. Spread eagles were a favorite of everyone for a reason, even if not everybody knew why; the ice loved good edges on those, loved the flow of them when they were executed properly. Chris had wonderful spread eagles, or so commentators liked to say. Certainly the ice seemed to adore them.

He didn't often do jumps during these private session, but he felt like something spicier today than usual. First off, the lutz which had become his trademark - he landed a perfect triple, then a quad at the other end. And another, and another. If the ice would be so kind to him in competition! Here it was quiet, and it didn't have anyone else competing for its affections. He did a quad toe loop, though those were boring, a quad salchow - also relatively boring - now, a quad loop, that was something special. The way his blades lingered on the ice just a touch longer than on the other jumps was like a caress.

This was getting him quite hot and bothered. Chris shook out his legs and decided to show the ice some _real_ action. It deserved it. He deserved it.

Chris loved spins. His were some of the best in the world; Switzerland was the envy of coaches whose students bobbled, struggled with positions, and forgot to count their rotations. Chris couldn't remember the last time he'd lost a level on his spins.

The best part was the way his blade scratched into the ice, gliding and leaving marks all the same, over and over and over again, building up as he held the spin. He could do them slowly for effect, but this morning he spun fast. First a camel, basic but still impressive, and then his favorite, a sit spin. He loved being so close to the ice like this, watching the world turn around him with him as the axis and the ice as the only other thing that mattered in the world, the sound! He could barely breathe when he heard the sound of his skates spinning, the ice crackling in the most lovely way.

It was too much. He collapsed onto the ice, panting. It was so cold. Slick and waiting just for him, soaking into his leggings.

His skates were covered in snow. He brushed it off with a shaking hand. Years ago, he'd caught Victor scraping the ice with his blades just to make snow, then picking it off the rink to eat it. He said it helped him concentrate, that it was soothing. That he needed to be connected to the ice in some way. It was strange, yes, had been weirder when Victor had picked the snow off of Chris's blades, too, but if he wanted to tag along to Chris's session to eat the ice, well. They were friends, and Chris could keep a secret.

Chris did not eat the ice. If anything, it felt like it melted under his touch as his fingers wandered across its surface. There were divots that the Zamboni hadn't quite smoothed out, the traces of his own blades left to mark it until the Zamboni came again. There was nothing quite like fresh, clean ice, waiting for them to slice into it, to mark it, but there was appeal in this, too. He liked seeing the evidence of his skating, how he'd changed the ice and heated it up.

It was heating him up, too, and he spread across it, giving it all of him. Let it take the heat from his limbs, let it take the energy from his body, and soaked in it. Cold was everywhere around him now, in his hands, his legs, along every inch of his skin. The ice begged for a little more; he mustered the energy to scrape it with his toe picks, and swore he felt it shiver. He jammed them in, and it shivered harder, or he shivered harder into it, rocking into its slippery hold, and he gave it the last of what he had. His vision went white, as white as the ice beneath him.

He was soaked when he finally hauled himself up and off the ice. Chris had to stop and admire it for a moment at the entrance to the rink. The smooth surface was now covered in the marks of spins, the occasional chunk missing from when he'd done jumps, and of course there were all the circles from the figures. Quite the morning meeting.

Later, of course, with his coach there, his rink mates, he wouldn't be able to indulge so much. And the ice wouldn't have its attention on him alone, too focused on everyone else jumping and spinning around the rink. But they would always have these early mornings, and he already couldn't wait for tomorrow morning, when the ice would be clean and slick and ready for his blades again.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear giftee person, compulsory figures are great, I agree! Why do we even call it figure skating now??? But quads are also great so I gave Chris some extra ones 'cause I like him :)


End file.
